You’ve been a good pet to me. I always praise you for how playful you are in the morning. Sometimes when I got home a little late at night, I always wonder why you can’t even wag your tail or get on your toes on to welcome me, instead, you wait until I got changed, then we play. But for most times, I really love how you stay late with me, all night, just to sleep right beside me.

I’m sorry if I can’t protect you from my mom who constantly nags on how you dispose those unpleasant things called “poo-poo” and “wee-wee”. I’m sorry if I can’t change the temperature when it gets too cold after you get a bath or when it gets too hot at exact noon. I’m sorry if I can’t bring all my attention to you. I know, I know, you’re just 3 months old, you seek for 100% care and affection. Please forgive me. I can’t save you from those “scabies”…even from a sudden separation from me.

I prayed that you would be fine after you got to be away from me. So, I let you go. Well, not really, but I sent you away anyway.

I’m very happy to see you grow after 2 months of being so far away from me. You’re healthy. You’ve gotten so fluffy. You are more grown up than I thought. But what surprised me the most? You still recognized me, not just as your master…but also your friend.

I’ll never forget when you first look into my eyes on my 18th birthday. Gray eyes. White fur, pure innocence. Your first look-at-the-camera photo, August 7. Your first bath last August 8. Your first visit to the clinic, July 30, 2013.The day you left me, August 27. the day that I saw you again, September 6. The day we bought your first collar, September 8. And so on, and so forth.

But what hurts the most, the most memorable thing…is when I first and last hugged you. It was just a week before you died. Yes, October 21. And I hate myself…because, I didn’t even have the chance to see you hours before you went to heaven.